The Rift- introduction
by Lichium
Summary: After being killed after his shift at a supermarket, a boy is brought to the land of Skyrim with no reason or explanation. Being guided by Hermaeus Mora, he's forced to cope with his new life and the unexpectedly vast amount of knowledge he obtains. (This story is simply an opening to a new one).
1. Chapter 1

**I have decided that I'm going to change the title of the story. It didn't work out very well, so im going to change it, shorten it, and have it lead up to a new story of mine, if it please the lords and ladies of the court. **

**This is my first FanFiction O: so I'm expecting it to be a piece of shit. I would even read it yet if i were you. I hope my fantabulous viewers grace me with a plethora of reviews, be they rude, constructive, silly or downright uncivilized.**

** I do not own Skyrim or anything related to Bethesda Soft works in any way. All that I have to my name is this stick of gum that I've been forced to savor since I was a young lad.**

**Black Wings**

**Chapter 1: Cold**

It nearly happened too fast for me to comprehend. A jug of milk in my right hand, I walked home from my shift at the supermarket. As I neared the alleyway, a cold metal touched the side of my shirt. "Come here." A rough, male voice said. I could smell the stench of cheap marijuana and tobacco from his body.

Obediently, I moved slowly into the alleyway.

"Empty your pockets," my mugger said.

I did as he said, and showed him the ball of lint that they carried.

He screamed at me, his body shaking, the menacing gun waving too wildly for my safety. As I tried to calm him down, I made the mistake of moving my hands toward him, and the next thing I saw was nothing.

The breath being forced into me was hotter than anything I had ever felt. My throat began to scald, and just when I thought I'd surely die, it stopped.

Just when I began to relax, a hand touched my chest, just over my heart. A burning sensation ever greater than the first was pushed into my, filling me to my very core. I screamed louder than I ever had, begging whoever this person was to stop, to stop before I died. After what seemed like an eternity, it did.

Soon after, a graceful breath filled my lungs, making it seem as if I was flying straight into the heavens. When the breath left me, I fell hard to the ground.

The last sensation that I felt was a simple kiss on the forehead, filling me with warmth.

**So... uhh... yea. Sucks so far but CHAPTERS ARE APPROACHING YOUNG CHILDREN.**

**When I said that this was my first FanFic I meant it. I haven't even written a story in over a year so I'm extremely rusty.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I ISH HERE AGAIN MY CHILDREN. Settle down, now, settle down. I know mediocre stories get your hormones running wild and rampant and make you burn down small villages in your sleep, but you need to calm yourself. There's plenty of time for our craziness later.**

**In case you haven't realized this yet, I'm extremely strange. So strange, in fact, that my mother is currently calling my psychiatrist to talk about new medication possibilities. FUN! **

**I also figured I should tell you that I don't own Skyrim or anything related to it. Although, I did recently acquire a decent plastic fork that I found in the park. Should be able to squeeze HOURS of entertainment out of it.**

Black Wings

Chapter Two: Helgen

The next thing that I was aware of was the cold. The chill of the breeze was making my teeth chatter, and I felt myself getting dizzy. I let out a soft grunt. It wasn't this cold just a moment ago when I… when I… was shot? No, that couldn't be right. The bullet hit me point blank. I wouldn't have survived that very easily, and I don't feel like I have any major wounds.

The next thing that I was aware of was the scent. Juniper and mold. I let out another grunt. Was I dreaming? Juniper wasn't common in my town. I only got a whiff of it when I was in the store's gardening department.

I slowly opened my eyes, the light blurring my vision momentarily. What was that sound? Were those horses?

"Hey, you," I heard an oddly familiar voice say, "You're finally awake." Wait, who was that? My vision cleared. Was that Ralof? I saw a familiar face staring at me intently.

"I'm dreaming," I struggled to say. I looked around. Horses were trotting down a road in an all but foreign land. Prisoners were either sleeping, crying, or talking solemnly to one another. "Ha! A lucid dream!" I had never had a lucid dream before, but this was absolutely incredible. I looked down at my hands, which were bound by a thick rope. I imagined them coming off, but to no avail. The bindings remained stubbornly unmoved.

A sad sigh escaped Ralof's mouth. "I'm afraid this is no dream, lad. You were trying to cross the border, right, like us and this thief?"

I smiled widely, which was rewarded by a few odd looks from my fellow prisoners. "I most certainly was, Ralof." He looked at me, wide-eyed. "What's wrong? You look surprised." I chuckled silently.

He stared daggers at me, murder in his eyes. He leaned as close as he could without making the guards think that he was attempting a futile escape. "How do you know my name?" he demanded. His breath seemed so real. His body odor seemed just as pungent as any I had unwillingly smelled in my life. How was that possible?

I inhaled sharply, feeling myself slip. "W-we've met before. A long time ago in Riverwood. I wouldn't have expected you to remember me." He leaned back, seeming nearly convinced. He looked so real. He wasn't pixelated. He smelled. Everything around me looked perfect. My breaths got faster and faster, and soon I felt myself fall into my seat.

I felt a sharp kick. Was I late for school? I moaned and opened my eyes, and saw Ralof looking at me again. Was I still in that realistic dream? "Come on, lad. We're almost here."

I whimpered softly. When was I going to wake up? I smiled softly, deciding to have a bit of fun as long as I had to stay here. "This is Helgen," I said, as Ralof opened his mouth. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here…. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed it.

Ralof stared at me, wide-eyed. Even Ulfric, to my right, seemed surprised. Apparently he and Ralof had gotten to know each other during their ride to the chopping block. "How did you-"

I cut him off with a soft laugh. "Funny." I said." "Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…."

I heard Lokir praying to his Gods. As I looked over to him, I saw the thick muscles throughout his body. That couldn't possibly be real, could it? I shook my head violently, banishing the thought.

Within moments, the carriage halted to a stop. My fellow inmates filed out and lined up, waiting as their names were called. As each person was named, I felt my knees becoming increasingly weak. Bodies had already been piled up from earlier in the day, and flies had already descended upon them to feed.

"Who are you?'" the man said. My head snapped up, my eyes widened.

"I-I-I'm… I'm Brennan… sir." He seemed to find the unnecessary formality amusing.

"What should we do, Captain?" the man asked the woman standing to his left.

She shook her head, her metallic armor clinking together. Forget the list. He goes to the block.

"By your orders." He looked at me solemnly. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure your remains are sent to…. Where are you from?"

I considered the question. Where was I from? I couldn't simply say, 'California.' "Just burn the remains." He nodded.

I walked over to the group of prisoners around the block and waiting for the speeches to be concluded. After the first prisoner was decapitated a familiar roar was heard throughout the city, earning many gasps. I was called up to the block, and slowly I approached. As I moved to rest my neck on the cold block, I saw the eyes of many villagers. Some were eager, but the majority seemed sad. I closed my eyes, and part of me knew they wouldn't open to my bedroom. As I awaited the Headsman's blade, I heard many shouts, the screams of men women and children, and orders from captains to their subordinates. I opened my eyes to see the black wings of Alduin swooping down from the sky, colder they had seemed in the game. As he landed on the top of a tower, I took the opportunity to run into the tower that I knew would lead to my escape. As I neared it, Alduin shouted, reddening the sky, and forcing me to fall onto my face, scraping my skin against the rocks. I shakily stood, running into the building, accepting this world to be my new reality.

**WELL! I THINK I"M ALMOST GETTING USED TO THIS SITE! IF ANYONE HAS SOME ADVICE ON HOW TO NAVIGATE THROUGH THE SITE OR ANY ADVICE/REVIEWS FOR THE STORY ID APPRECIATE IT! AND IF YOU WANT ME TO STOP USING CAPS THEN HELP PAY FOR THE PSYCH TREATMENT THAT ITLL REQUIRE! BUHBYE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I don't know why I'm still writing this story. Maybe it's because someone has a gun to my head, demanding that I write if I want to live. Maybe it's because I'm just plain bored and have nothing better to do other than getting a life. Most likely the latter.**

**Many thanks to the likely delusional people who thought that this story was worth following or even viewing. I was planning on stopping this, but you changed my mind. I will however, change the rating and description. And to all people who think that this chapter went too fast, that's kind of the point. Mostly because I'm too stressed to think right now.**

**I don't own Skyrim, or any related product, but I do have a neighbor who owns a copy of the game, which is how I know about the content of the game. I sneak to his window and watch him play, often getting odd looks from onlookers and sometimes a free trip to the police department.**

As I walked into the tower, I heard Ralof conversing with Ulfric about the creature. I could easily understand their shock. After all, I had just had a fantasy forced upon me as a new reality as well.

I ran up the steps to the top of the tower, and hurriedly jumped back a second before the dragon broke through the stone, suddenly remembering that it would happen. After the dragon flew away, I called to Ralof and Ulfric, telling them to follow me. I braced myself and jumped onto a pillar in the building next to me, not expecting it to break on impact. My breath was knocked out of my body, and the world around me seemed to buzz. I slowly got to my feet, and ran outside. As I prepared to run to the Keep, I felt the dragon's fire burn some of the flesh off my ankle. I screamed, patting at the fire on my pants. It was just then that I realized that I was wearing the same ragged cloth that I had worn in the game. I stumbled through the town, which was harder to navigate than it had been in the game. As I approached the two doors to the Keep, I heard a man's voice.

"Ralof, you damn traitor!" I heard Hadvar yell.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You can't stop us." I heard Ralof approaching me from behind.

Hadvar growled. "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" I watched as he ran, fuming, into the Keep, and slowly walked through the door that Ralof had disappeared into.

I limped into the building, happy to escape the stench of burning flesh, to see Ralof hovering over a corpse. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother…."

I sighed, trying to take my mind off of the burn. "Gunjar was a good man," I said. "He'll soon be drinking and singing merrily with Ysgramor himself."

Ralof turned to me. He had a strong face. His greasy blond hair fell just past his shoulders. His pale face, more than common to see on a Nord, was covered in dirt and grime, making him looked like the perfect Nord warrior. The only sign of weakness that I saw was the mere threat of tears, which was perfectly understandable for a man in his position. "Aye," he said with a deep exhale. "That he was. Always saw the sun during the darkest of days. Did you know him well?"

I smiled shyly. He was so much more realistic this way. In the game, with his simple dialogue, it was easy to accept him as fictional. But now, it was like I was actually talking to him. I WAS actually talking to him! "Not really," I said. "About as well as I knew you. I travel a lot, usually without knowing where I'm headed, so I've briefly met plenty of people." I looked at him, feigning deep thought. "Your sister…. Her name is Gerdur, correct?"

His expression brightened at the thought of his sister. "Yes! Ah, the thought of home is more than a welcome one. It's been too long since I've enjoyed the luxury of a warm bed." With a look at my bindings, he seemed to snap back to reality. "Oh! I'll get those bindings off for you." I held out my hands and allowed him to cut the rope off with a dagger that he retrieved from his belt. I clenched my fists and rubbed my sore wrists. The pain seemed pathetic compared to my ankle.

"You wouldn't happen to have any healing potions," I asked, "would you? The dragon managed to burn my ankle."

"Sorry, lad. The Imperials took all personal items other than my clothes when we were ambushed." He looked down at Gunjar. "Put his armor on. You may be able to find one if you live long enough.

I kneeled next to the corpse and propped him up. Undressing him didn't seem too odd to me. It may have been the videos of surgeries that I had seen in Biology, or perhaps that, after I was transported into a fantasy world and attacked by a dragon, little could seem weird.

Once id equipped the armor, which unsurprisingly didn't automatically fit to my body as it did in the game, I picked the axe up and swung in through the air. The axe, for someone as weak as me, would be far too difficult to wield. I looked down at my body. I wasn't too tall but I wasn't by any means short. I was rather skinny (unlike in the game, random clothing you find on a corpse won't perfectly fit you. Gunjar's armor was slightly too big for me). I was light-footed, making it easier to sneak up on people. I looked up at Ralof. "Would you mind if I use your dagger instead of this axe?"

"Nay, I don't mind at all." He unsheathed the steel dagger from his belt and handed the hilt to me. I grabbed it cautiously and held it out. It was light, and when I swung it, it seemed to glide freely through the air. I smiled widely. This was the blade for me.

We jumped at the sound of two people moving toward us from another room within the Keep. I remembered this scene from the game. The woman would have the key. The key would lead to a staircase which would lead to a storeroom occupied with two imperial soldiers which would eventually lead to a torture which would lead to…. I realized that I was hyperventilating again. All of the memories. All of the new facts. So many thoughts forced their way into my mind and I couldn't hold them back! What was going on? Was I going mad? Was I already mad? I remembered the cold streets of my hometown. I remembered my family, and all of the times that I had wronged them. I saw images, obviously from my world, but of people that I had never seem. People walking, talking, stabbing others while bathing in their victim's blood. Serial killers, smiling as they complete the kill that they've been planning for months.

I found myself on the ground, looking up at Ralof who was fighting ferociously against the Imperials. I closed my heavy eyelids, ready to sleep forever.

The next thing that I was aware of was a cold voice, seemingly invading the depths of my consciousness.

**_"Rest, young boy. I will lessen the knowledge that you receive, and the rate at which it enters your mind. You'll need some of your sanity for later." _**

The next thing that I was aware of was a creaking wood and a man grunting in his sleep.

I opened my eyes, sighing softly as my body strained itself to sit up. I struggled to my feet, taking in my surroundings. I was still in Skyrim. That much was clear. I was in Gerdur's home, and had been sleeping on a bench with furs draped over it. I strained to see who was around me. Hod, Gerdur, Ralof and Frodnar were all fast asleep. My knees shaking, I walked to the kitchen table. Attempting to situate myself on the seat, I accidentally tripped over my own feet, bringing a tablecloth covered with clean dishes crashing to the floor with me.

I looked up to see that Ralof was already up, axe in hand, Hod, only a bit slower than Ralof, was sleepily waving a dagger into the dark. Frodnar was still fast asleep, and Gerdur merely mumbled, annoyed by the noise.

"Who's there?" Ralof yelled. He moved slowly toward the source of the noise, ready to strike.

"I-it's me! Ralof, it's only me." My throat was extremely sore. I hadn't talked for a while, it seemed. I heard him sigh in relief, and within moments he had lit a lamp on the table. I heard Frodnar and Gerdur standing behind me.

Ralof reached down, sighing, and helped me up to the seat. "You've been asleep for a long time, friend. I had begun to wonder if you would ever wake up."

"How long have I-"

"He's awake?" I heard Frodnar yell. He came by my side and squeezed my shoulder. "By the Nine! You really are awake! What's your name? How old are you? Why were you asleep? Why didn't you wake up? Why-"

"Frodnar!" Gerdur yelled from behind him. "Give the boy some time to breathe, child. I doubt he wants you to smother him with all of these questions."

Ralof chuckled as Frodnar dipped his head and walked away. "To answer your question, you've been asleep for about four days. Gerdur has had to feed you and clean you when necessary."

I stared, wide-eyed. "Clean?"

"Save yourself from the embarrassment and don't ask." I gladly took his advice.

Frodnar took the chance to begin asking his questions again. Apparently the sleeping stranger was not only fascinating to him, but also his friend, Dorthe, but was unnerving to the older and naturally wary neighbors. It was difficult to answer him before he asked the next question each time.

I told him that I was 16 years old, and was born in the company of Khajit merchants while my mother and father were hiding from the Empire, which I knew Ralof and his family would love, being that they hated the Empire. I had never had a chance to learn the details of their crime, because my mother died during childbirth. My fabricated father was devastated, and quickly turned to drink. The Khajits let us stay because they rightly feared for my wellbeing. On the anniversary of my mother's death, he drank himself to death.

"I was brought up by the Khajits until I turned 12, which was when… bandits…."

**_"The rift between your world and theirs has grown more and more unstable, child. I'm quite surprised that something like you made it through, though."_**

I recognized my new surroundings. I stood in a gloomy world, oily waters surrounding me, my feet upon a stable stone platform. Towers of book surrounded me, and papers flew in spiral formations. A mass of black, oily tendrils floated before me, its multiple eyes blinking in turn. "Hermaeus Mora, I presume."

The Daedric Prince chuckled. **_"So it's true. Your people do have our knowledge. And now we have you." _**His eyes looked over my physique. **_"You look pathetic. You have little muscle, mortal. Your already frail body is as weak as a suckling child." _**He chuckled again, louder than before. **_"But you're smart. I can use you."_**

I found myself in Gerdur's home again, lying on the floor with the woman leaning over me, obviously trying to find out what to do. "You're awake," she breathed. She looked over to Hod. "What are we to do with this one?"

"Nothing," Hermaeus Mora said with my voice. "It is time that I leave you."

Everybody in the home looked frightened. "You're in no shape to be moving, boy!" Hod said as I reached the door.

It was cold outside. The world was dark. It was getting darker. Slowly. It soon became black.

**_"You must sleep now. I will wake you when we arrive."_**

The demon was true to his word. I woke up on the steps leading to the bridge of the College of Winterhold. _Of course_, I thought. _Where else would a demon of knowledge prefer to go?_

The elf Faralda stood before me, far taller than myself. "Faralda," I said wearily. "It has been so long."

She looked at me, confused. "I do not often forget a face. Have we met?"

I smiled weakly. "I have met you, but you have not met me. Now, I assume you wish to know what I seek at the College, and what I can offer."

She looked at me, obviously suspicious. "You would be correct."

I smiled. "I do not know what I seek. I have been brought here against will. Although I could imagine that I can offer quite a bit of knowledge about the future, the past, another world, and your Thalmor associate."

She stared at me, obviously confused. "Do you speak of Ancano?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

Faralda stared at me with a cocky smile on her face. _What's wrong with her? _I thought. _She didn't trust him in the game. _

"Ancano was killed three years ago. Struck down by our newest Arch-Mage."

**Well then... bumbumbum! I most likely made a plethora of mistakes. Possibly right then. Is that a correct situation to use the word plethora? Hmmm. ANYWAYS! Erm... bai!**


End file.
